A Night Out in Another Life
by jjbird
Summary: A strip club, a ladies night club,a karaoke bar... Jack, Sam, Danny and co are out on the town. 2nd sequel to my Another Life AU stories. J/S as always.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Do not ask me where I'm going with this, I'm still working it out... If you haven't read my previous stories, _Another Life_ and _Christmas in Another Life_, you're going to be confused and wonder what's going on... Big, big thanks to Mariel, as always so helpful and totally wonderful -I've added a fair amount so any mistakes are totally mine... And thanks to Sam for her help and friendly chats.

**Disclaimer**: Oh, just the usual, I won't bore you with the details. But Jack _should_ be mine.

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**A Night Out in Another Life**.

by

**jjbird**

They lasted 7 minutes in the strip club.

_7 minutes._

Jack was blaming Al; Al was blaming Jack.

But actually, neither had wanted to be there in the first place.

It was Samantha's fault, really, and Jack was going to have to have some words about it. One day.

She'd thrown it at him after dinner, after they'd delivered Danny to his hotel. He was trying to find a coat hanger for his jacket; she was in the bathroom removing her make-up. "You, Al and Danny are going to a strip club."

Jack had nearly dropped the jacket on the floor and wondered if she'd spiked his drink earlier. He must be dreaming. "Sorry, I just imagined you said-" he called out.

"You heard me. Tomorrow night. You three are going to a strip joint because Jen and I are going to a male strip club."

Finally locating a coat hanger and hanging up the jacket, Jack had decided maybe he'd been hit on the head instead. Most men would have been thrilled for their fiancée to suggest it; but then, he wasn't like most men. "And this is what makes it fair in the Spade universe? Two nights before our wedding and you're making me go to a strip club," Jack had said, trying the words out for size, and finding they didn't fit to his liking.

She had been speaking over the running water. "Jen was telling me about it –'Men Alive' it's called. Not sleazy, very tasteful. They don't take it _all _off." She had almost sounded disappointed, Jack noted. "More like a revue, classy. Something different for one of our last nights' out as singles –it's a tradition after all."

Coming to stand at the open bathroom door, Jack had frowned. He'd have thought some pre-marital sex would have been on the cards that night instead. "And she's been there before?" He wondered what Al would say about that. He'd certainly never mentioned it since he'd known him, but then it wasn't something that would come up in normal conversation.

"No, which is why this is the perfect opportunity," she had said, looking for excess mascara in her reflection.

"I thought what we all did the other night was enough," he'd pointed out.

The bachelor party poker game Al had organized a couple of days before had been more like it –a few guys, expensive whisky, some Cuban cigars Danny had sent Jack some months before ('Don't ask, don't tell' read the accompanying note) and a huge range of greasy take-out –all extremely satisfying. Samantha had rounded up a few ladies to watch some chick flicks and an obscene amount of chocolate had been consumed, along with the contents of all the bottles of alcohol in their apartment. Jack hadn't known women could do so much damage to innocent bottles in such a short time.

Satisfied all the make-up was gone, Samantha had looked over at him. "Jack, come on. I wouldn't feel right going if you didn't go to something equivalent. Fair's fair."

Jack hadn't known what to make of her twisted logic. "I'll talk to Al –but I'm not exactly happy about it…" he grumbled.

Smiling in a way because she knew the battle was half won, Samantha had gone over to him, and pressed herself against him. "I'll make it worth it for you," she'd said in a quiet whisper.

"Are you using your feminine wiles on me to get what you want?" he had asked as she began to kiss his ear.

"Hm-mm," she had nodded, continuing on to his neck.

"And you're not taking no for an answer, are you?"

She'd begun to unbutton his shirt, fingernails lightly grazing his chest beneath.

Jack had sighed, his resolve crumbling. "Oh, all right then…"

Sometimes, even Jack Malone was like other men.

Xx--

And it was also Danny's fault. In the end the best man hadn't wanted to go to some sleazy strip club while he was in Chicago for the wedding, even with Jack. Being sensible, wise and single, Danny knew that being with Samantha and Al's wife, Jen -in a club full of excited and most likely drunk women- was a much better idea.

They paid the horrendous cover charge, then Jack and Al got themselves beers and sat to watch the 'exotic dancers' -all implants, all the time. The club was as dark and grimy as their table was. It all felt as cheap and tragic as it looked. Gianelli had recommended the place to Al –probably angling for an invitation that was never going to come. Looking around at the other patrons, Jack should have known better -on second thoughts- but he'd also asked around and no-one was able or willing to suggest anywhere -as if any one had believed his excuse for going.

Sitting there, both men knew they were too old for this and that it wasn't their style. It went without saying that they both knew their ladies were having a much better time without them.

And to add insult to injury, Danny was with the women. Traitor. Danny was never going to live this one down, Jack had decided.

Al stared at the disinterested, scantily-clad woman closest to them, gyrating on the stage. "What exactly is the point of the pole? I mean –_really _really? Is it actually there to belittle us?" he asked Jack.

Jack, the groom, preferred to concentrate on his beer, examining the froth, knowing that he had something better in his own life.

The reek of desperation that pervaded the club and emanating from the other men finally got to both of them. They looked at each other, making a silent agreement, drained their glasses and quietly left.

They stood outside, wondering what to do next and noting how long they'd lasted.

"Well, that sucked," Al said, avoiding looking at Jack as they walked aimlessly down the street.

"Actually, I believe you pay extra for that," Jack pointed out.

Al pulled a face. "Sweet Jesus, Mary and Joseph… yech! Should have a word with the guys at Vice about that." He sighed sadly. "I should never have taken Gianelli's advice."

Shrugging it off, Jack stopped in front of a bar. "There is no way we can turn up at that club they're at right now."

Looking through the bar's window, Al nodded. "And Sam's going to give us hell while Jen'll just laugh…"

"So, we might as well sink a few more?"

"Sounds good to me," Al said, stepping back to allow Jack through the door. "The condemned about-to-be-married man buys the first round -top shelf and no arguing!"

Xx--

After a reasonable amount of time, whisky and playing the blame game had passed, Jack and Al decided to venture to the club to find the others. The queue was long but Jack decided that flashing his badge might help and it did. The doorman helpfully informed them that they had just missed a number, but there would be another one in half an hour.

Al shot a look at Jack as they considered this. "Oh, joy…"

Jack rubbed his temple. There was definitely a headache forming. "If they call for volunteers from the audience, I'm out of here."

A sound like a guffaw came from Al. "Good grief Jack, the number of women here that would want to see you strip down to your… ah… boxers _might_ actually number more than one, you know."

Jack shot him a withering look. "Al Robertson, you really worry me sometimes."

"No more than I worry myself. Let's get in there and find our ladies."

Another cover charge later, they sauntered inside, as nonchalantly as possible, to find the contrast between the two clubs couldn't have been more jarring. The lighting, the atmosphere and the music were happily upbeat. Finding their respective partners in the crowd of women was not going to be an easy task. The female crowd was obviously having a wonderful and rowdy time.

"I believe this is what we called in the dark ages 'a happening place'," noted Al over the thumping music.

Jack was busy scanning the club; barring the male staff, there seemed to be the expected lack of men around. "When was that -1973?"

Al thought about this for a moment. "I believe it was 1969, actually."

"I would never have guessed a place could be so busy on a week night. Look at all these women!" It was like a happy feeding frenzy.

Al nudged Jack in the side and indicated a group of women standing near-by, who were blatantly giving them both the once over. "Uh-oh, we're being checked out… Women just can't keep away from this teddy bear, I'm telling you-"

"For Christ's sake, where the hell is Sam?" Jack cut in irritably, searching the feminine crowd. A few moments later his eyes alighted on her, sitting alone at a table. Feeling a surge of relief he dragged Al over by the arm.

After being enveloped in a big hug, Samantha was surprised to see them but also secretly pleased; feeling rescued, Jack then made his excuses to go to the bathroom, so she nabbed Al for a round of drinks.

Samantha couldn't help but grin while they made small talk, watching as Al ordered the drinks and watched them being made. He solemnly paid the bartender, a look of disapproval on his face.

She grabbed a couple of glasses to help him out; it was the least she could do. Al took one last look at the bartender as they began to walk back to the table, trying to avoid the female throng and not spill anything.

"This is so wrong," he hissed at her.

"What?" asked Samantha innocently. "The drinks?"

Al frowned. "Your choice, and frozen strawberry margaritas I can handle, but for God's sake, do I have to be treated to his firm pecs and washboard stomach while he gets them? It's not something I _want_ to see."

Samantha laughed. _And he was buff, and tanned…_ "Feeling insecure?"

Snorting, Al tried to be blasé. "Hardly -I'm very secure of my extraordinary body image." Back at their empty table, they put the drinks down and seated themselves. "I take great pains to keep it within the FBI health guidelines –borderline cuddly at most. It takes a lot of non-working out to be this soft toy-like." Spreading the glasses around, he made sure he put Danny's mocktail in the right place. Al continued, a bit miserably. "But this place, all these…" he searched for a word as a hunky waiter went past and looked horrified at his decision, "studs… This isn't even a gay club!"

Samantha was busy looking for her own stud; she knew he wouldn't have detoured onto the dance floor where Danny –practically the only guy - and Jen were. "Would a gay club have been a better idea?" she asked absently, before spotting Jack making his way back.

_Men, you just can't keep them happy… _

Sitting next to her, Jack kissed her on the cheek, before staring at the drinks. "You have _got_ to be kidding me… Al, did Sam make you buy these?"

Al nodded as he picked up a glass. "Be a man," he said, twirling a green cocktail umbrella at him as he ate the cherry it came with. "If I can manage it, so can you."

Jack leaned over closer to Samantha, his voice husky over the noise. "Is it just me or did his testosterone level increase. I swear he just grew a 5 o'clock shadow."

She tipped her head towards the bar. "I'm blaming the barman and the waiters –big, muscled and quite some sights to behold."

Jack nodded, understanding and not feeling in the least threatened, he then wondered how and where the night had gone so bizarrely wrong. A male strip joint was the last place he'd ever thought he'd find himself, unless it was work related.

She fully faced Jack, dying to ask: "So, how was it?"

Rolling his eyes, he pulled a face. "I'll tell you about it later; just don't _ever_ make me do that again." He picked up a glass and took off the garnishes. Taking a sip, he scowled and decided Samantha was trying to kill him: she'd requested the sugar-crusted rim instead of salt.

Al finally caught sight of Danny and Jen on the dance floor and watched a few moments. "Pretty good mover, your Danny. If he dances any closer to Jen he's going home in a body bag."

"Yep, that man sure knows how to dance," said Samantha, earning her a reproachful look from Jack. Dancing had never been his strong point.

Spotting them, Danny waved before leading Jen back to the table. With a flourish, he gave her a twirl and kissed her hand, before they sat in their seats.

"I saw you over here –missing us, by any chance?" Danny grinned smugly at them.

"Well, I'm glad they're back," said Jen, a little puffed, fanning herself with her hands as Al territorially put his arm around her. "How'd it go?"

Al squeezed her arm. "I'm not discussing it anymore than Jack is… So, Danny, been teaching my wife a few moves?" he asked, neutrally. Jack and Samantha glanced at each other; this was a new side to Al.

"A bit of salsa, a bit of rumba, she's natural, and I have to say, the women in Chicago are extremely fine, too," he said, throwing an admiring look over his shoulder.

"You got some phone numbers?" asked Jack, not surprised at all and hoping to help Al out; he knew Danny had a special magic with the ladies. Danny just smiled smugly in reply.

Jack's enquiry worked. Al perked up. "You did? But you're only here for a few days!" he said, admiringly.

Danny picked up his glass. "I'm only saying… I may be bringing a date to the wedding."

This was fine with Samantha. It was going to be a very small affair, so it wasn't like that was going to ruin any seating arrangements. Vivian had had to cancel last minute because of a combination of Bureau work and Marcus. Martin, although invited, tactfully declined; both Samantha and Jack were relieved about that –the last face-to-face meeting in New York between Jack and Martin hadn't turned out very well, and there was now an uneasy truce. Besides, having exes at her wedding wasn't on Samantha's wish list. Hanna and Kate were going to be flowergirls, but Maria was also going to be diplomatically absent by her own choice. This was another absence to be relieved about.

The dance music was dying out and there was a stampede of women toward the stage on the other side of the dance floor. The next number was about to start.

Danny leaned forward. 'You should see these guys," he said to Jack and Al, "they're really, really good."

Shaking his head, Jack smiled. "Danny Taylor, you also really worry me sometimes. You'll be up on the stage next."

The look on Jen's face meant she wouldn't mind that at all. Luckily for her, the lights in the club began to dim.

Al looked at Samantha, beseechingly. "Do we _have_ to stay?"

Samantha thought she should put Al -and to a lesser extent, Jack- out of his misery. Only in one respect. "Drink up, boys, because next," she announced cheerfully, "we're going to a karaoke bar!"

Stricken, Jack looked at Al; Al looked at Jack.

_Oh, shit…_

tbc, oh yes...


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: It's been about a year and a half since I updated this (I thought it had been 2 years actually, so it doesn't seem that bad after all) and considering I've had 90% of this chapter already written I thought I should get it finished, and so I have. Like the first chapter, it is best that you've read the other stories that go before this one. Thanks to Mariel for her help, as always.

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**A Night Out in Another Life**

_Chapter Two_

Xx--

Samantha was obviously listening to other people for her entertainment needs. This time, she'd heard of a Japanese-owned karaoke bar, _Vis-à-Vis_, where the owner had a predilection for the Rat Pack and other lounge music.

"Whose hang out is this, exactly?" Jack enquired as they made their way there.

"Jeremy, in the tech room-"

"I thought your division was _all_ tech room," cut in Danny.

Samantha ignored him. "He's a bit of a karaoke fan and recommended it."

"So he'll be there," said Jack, hoping not; he never felt comfortable with Samantha's colleagues, being way too nerdy and too technological for him. In a nutshell, they made him feel old.

"No, it's his online gaming night."

"Bummer –I like the geek squad, they amuse me," remarked Al, evidently without Jack's hang-up. Samantha smiled at him as they went into the small bar.

Making their way to a table –it wasn't a busy place- Jack always thought karaoke was something that happened to other people. He hadn't exactly avoided it over the years, but neither had he sought it out. He was fairly sure his voice wasn't designed for singing and never had been. Wishing he'd been further warned, he was trying to remember hearing Samantha sing in public -other than just the occasional warble when she had a shower, and the jury was still way out on her ability.

Damned if he knew what song he was going to inflict on everyone.

Xx--

Samantha decided to buy a round while the guys chose their songs first. Al and Danny left Jack still searching the song selection book and ambled back to their table. "I tell you what –that strip club is starting to look pretty good right now, but I'm very pleased with my song choice," Al boasted genially.

"Which one?" asked Danny, wincing as he heard someone mangling an Elvis song in the background.

"Which one what?"

"What?"

"Both. Either. I'm beyond caring right now. I am, as they say, comfortably numb."

"Who says that?"

Al stared in mock horror. "You are either a music philistine or else you're winding me up, Salsa Boy."

"I thought you'd be a Sinatra man."

"That is very clichéd and I reckon that'll be more for Jack… I thought you'd be a Desi Arnez kind of guy."

"Talk about clichéd... Hang on -junior or senior?"

"Both. Either. Tell you what, speaking of Frank -I'll pay you $10 to sing _New York, New York _later."

"In Chicago? I don't have a death wish, Al," Danny laughed.

Smiling at Jen as he sat down, Al then sniffed. "You are definitely no fun."

"So is Al short for Alan?"

"No, Albert. But I don't think I'm a Bert."

"Yeah, you're way more of an Ernie, said Danny, enjoying getting some digs as Samantha arrived back juggling a tray of almost glowing drinks. "Hell Sam," he said as she put them down, "Jack is going to kill you..."

Xx--

Finally choosing something and booking in the songs with the barman, Jack then arrived at the table to be yet again faced with something scary in a glass, compliments of his fiancée. Folding his arms, he looked at pointedly at Samantha, face set in stone. "No way."

"Oh, go on, darling," Samantha pouted. "Just for me."

"No! And that's not going to work this time."

"You know you'll like it."

"I'm not drinking anything else that's red -or pinky red, or orangey-red. This is not my dead body so there's no getting over it."

"Not even for your bride?"

"If I drink that -along with everything else I've had tonight- I shall be seriously sick," he said, pointing to the offending glass with his finger. "Then _you_ would have to deal with the consequences." He had to admit to himself he was feeling a bit muzzy; he'd have to be, to be here, about to sing in front of his friends and the other bar patrons.

Samantha frowned. She liked sweet martinis –this was a raspberry one; the worse it could do was to give him a brightly colored tongue. She looked at Al imploringly. Siding with Jack, he shook his head and moved his own raspberry martini over to his wife. Then looking over at Jen, Samantha shrugged. "Well, it's up to you and me then."

"I warned you, these guys have their limits," Jen said, happily sipping hers. "Come on Sam, it's our turn to choose a song."

"Hang on, what are you guys singing?"

Al tapped the side of his nose. "Ah-ha, just wait."

"It'll be worth it," Danny said, confidently.

The ladies looked at Jack. He shrugged. "For your listening pleasure, I promise you." To tell the truth, he wasn't feeling that confident, but damned if he was going to show it.

Samantha and Jen both rolled their eyes as they headed off, martinis in hand.

Xx--

Thumbing through the song choices, Jen chewed on her lip. "It doesn't look like there's anything from the 80s or 90s…"

"That's not such a bad thing is it?"

"Even the 70s are sparse," Jen noted, before taking a gulp of her martini.

"Well, I'm lucky I've found mine. What's your usual?"

"Hmm, it's not like we do this very often, but I like to sing Al that _Pina Colada_ song."

Samantha blinked. "Are you serious?"

"Only because he hates it so much…"

"I can't blame him for that."

"Maybe _Smoke Gets in Your Eyes_, especially after that poker game the other night -the house positively stunk." Jen scanned more pages. "Ah, this one, _The Boy from Ipanema_, Peggy Lee's version. That'll do nicely for me."

Xx--

When the ladies had left, Danny sidled closer to Jack and Al. He first looked around, conspiratorially. "I know what Samantha will sing. In fact I'll bet you $20."

"Okay, you're on -how come?" asked Al, instantly intrigued.

"We all went to a karaoke bar for her farewell party in New York."

This was news to Jack. "I didn't know it was _quite _her thing." Very much a disturbing thing, he was beginning to find out.

"What did she sing?" asked Al, needing further information.

With an evil glint in his eye, Danny leaned in closer. "_Me and Mrs. Jones_."

There was a pause as Jack and Al each considered this and worked through the lyrics in their slightly drunk minds.

Al was slightly faster. Licking his lips and not daring to look at Jack next to him, he asked: "As in… 'Me and _Mrs_. Jones, we got a _thing_ going on'?"

Danny nodded. "Yeah, except she doesn't have a deep voice like yours -thank God. And she knew how to work the mike stand too… I kid you not; she wrapped herself around it like a snake and _worked_ it." He leaned back, a satisfied look on his face. "Amazing -the guys voted it performance of the night –plus, I saw it in the song book here."

But Al needed more clarification through his mind's fog. "So, let me get this straight…Samantha. Our Samantha. By herself. With a microphone stand. Singing a song about having an affair with a _married_ _woman_…" He had a dreamy look on his face. "Da-amn, that's hot." He stood up. "That's it, I'm going to give her $100 to sing it again; she'd be better than those sad strippers any day-" Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him back into his seat before he got very far.

"Hey -she'll sing what she wants." Actually Jack didn't know whether to be appalled or… well, frankly excited by the prospect.

Al was in puppy dog eye mode. "Jack, please, I'm begging you -make a dirty, old man happy…"

"No!"

"What about $150? I can borrow some money from Jen-"

"Will you shut up if I order us some more whisky?"

Al harrumphed. "Spoilsport... but about the whisky -possibly, although at this rate my liver may not thank you." Al then looked enviously at Danny. "Performance of the night, eh? Lucky, lucky bastard."

"Hey, I'm not the one -after seeing that everybody in the New York office _knows_ that it's Jack who's the lucky bastard."

"Amen to that. And Jack, I'll have just a single malt, nothing blended."

"On the rocks or straight?"

"No, just the whole bottle."

"Nice try, a glass it is. I suppose since this is a Japanese bar, then Suntory will do?" he asked, knowing the answer.

Al grimaced. "Shit Jack, that's a nasty threat. Just a simple, elegant, overly-expensive Scottish whisky will do fine."

"Are you going to be fussy again?"

"Glenfiddich, Glenmorangie –hell, even Glen Campbell would do."

"Yeah, yeah…" A thought about Samantha's song choice rose in Jack's mind. "Hey, you know I had a dream about being a lesbian once-"

"Aw Jack, not that old story again!" groaned Danny. "Spare us!"

"Geez Malone, get some new stories -that one's wearing thin," added Al, waving him away. "Go. Alcohol. Now."

Suitably chastened and shaking his head, Jack went over to the bar. He'd already decided to start drinking bottled water, especially if he had to sing. He leaned against the bar, waiting to be served and looked over at Samantha, deep in conversation with Jen.

Looking at his future wife, Jack felt a warm glow inside that had nothing to do with the night's alcohol consumption.

This was a changed Jack Malone. Danny had scarcely recognized his former boss when he'd arrived, a shadow of his dour self. In fact, Danny was certain the change would have surprised not just his former unit, but the Bureau's whole 12th floor.

Jack smiled.

He laughed a lot.

He radiated happiness.

In short, Jack was totally in love with Samantha, and he felt great. He knew he was an altered man, and he also knew it was down to Samantha making the difference in his life –basically it had all started when she told him she'd be coming to Chicago.

He simply couldn't wait to be married to her.

Smiling at the memory of how he'd nearly botched the proposal –standing in the freezing cold by the empty Buckingham fountain, teeth chattering, asking Samantha to take off her gloves so he could slip the ring on and then fumbling it with frozen fingers- he was amazed as ever they'd managed to be together.

And he'd also managed to keep the honeymoon destination a secret! He could have been in the CIA or KGB with the secrecy involved. No feminine wile of hers could extract _that_ secret from him; she'd given up trying some time ago, although he had thoroughly enjoyed her attempts.

The barman arrived and Jack ordered the drinks. While he waited he had nothing better to do than gaze admiringly at his love.

Xx—

Samantha and Jen were in their huddle.

Jen's mouth was open with shock. "You _still_ don't know where you're going on your honeymoon? How will you know what to pack?"

"Jack's being very old-fashioned about it. He says I just have to bring my passport and an empty bag, and time is running out for hints."

"Oh, that sadistic man... I've been wondering -maybe it's Alaska! I've always wanted to go there."

Samantha smiled to herself. "Been there, done that."

"Well, there's no point in guessing anymore, even Al doesn't know. It'll just have to be a surprise… So, you're all prepared for the wedding, and everything's ticked off the list. Your wedding dress is safe with us."

Thankful that Jen had been around to help her out when needed, Samantha was so organized it hurt. "I still haven't heard if my Mom's going to make it, but with her, you never know."

"Your sister -still no word?" Samantha shook her head. "That's a shame. And you know you can still come over tomorrow night if you want to do the whole spend-the-night-before-the-wedding-apart if you want."

"I'll see. I think Jack wants us to be together."

Jen laughed. "He's a man. Of course he does."

"Jack will be having a nice lazy day with Danny, showing him some more sights. They said I'd be too distracted to have around." She sighed. "I don't think I'll be sleeping much tomorrow night anyway."

"What bride does?"

Samantha looked over to see Jack at the bar. "I'm betting that your man has coerced Jack into buying more whisky."

"Hmm, yes, Al's good at that. You can book the songs in while you're there and I'll go keep Al and your charming best man company."

Xx—

Smiling, Samantha made her way around the bar to Jack. He was about to say something when Samantha raised her hand.

"Don't pretend we're strangers and you're trying to pick me up."

Thwarted, Jack changed tact. "Well then, will you marry me?"

Samantha appeared to consider this. "Oh, I think so." She allowed herself to be pulled into his embrace and, sighing happily, she looked at him, eyes shining brightly with love.

He squeezed her gently. "Not long to go."

"I may burst."

"Really? You look so calm."

"I think it's the alcohol –we are seriously going to stop drinking after the honeymoon."

"Well, we don't exactly do this very often. We'll become a boring, old, married couple that stays in at night."

"Sounds wonderful," and she knew she meant it.

"I'll get you a bottle of water," Jack said, signaling the barman to add one to his tab. "You're going to need something to dilute those martinis."

They turned to find Al leading Jen to the tiny dance floor. "Someone's about to sing Bobby Darrin's _More_…" he said in passing, as if this explained everything.

Sam smiled at the older lovebirds. "Aw, they're great role-models."

"I'll agree about Jen, but Al? I'm not so sure about that…"

"Got your songs organized?"

"Yep, but only one," Jack said lightly, hoping he could get away with just that.

"Me too. Are you going to tell me what you're singing?"

Shaking his head, Jack wanted some mystery out there. "But it's no big deal,"

"I'm sure you'll be great, sweetheart," she said, writing down Jen's and her songs for the barman. Jack glanced sideways to see what song number and title she had written.

_Damn that Taylor! _

It looked like he was going to be right.

Grabbing the drinks, they made their way back to the table to join Danny, who was evidently enjoying himself sorting through all the phone numbers hed gotten from the ladies' night club.

Jack made sure he had a spare $20 on him.

Xx--

After watching Al get through a bouncy version of _Just a Gigolo _and Danny doing a very credible version of _Don't Get Around Much Anymore_, it was Jack's turn to sing. He felt like he was sweating buckets. Sticking to water quite hadn't sobered him up, which was undoubtedly a good thing, and he was amongst friends, and strangers he'd never see again -so what the hell. He grabbed a sip of Al's whisky before he went up.

He'd chosen _I've Got You Under My Skin, _unsure if the lyrics were 100% suitable but he was positive Sam would get the intention. Gripping the microphone as if his life depended on it, he started off a bit shaky as he sang the words but certainly got better as he gained confidence. He wasn't quite Sinatra, but then no-one ever would be again.

It was true, he knew as he managed to hold the tune; Sam was under his skin and always had been, and he was rapt that she was.

After he had finished, his own private groupie cheered wildly as he made his way back to her.

"That was awesome," Samantha said, giving him a big hug. Jack had the grace to blush. "Why don't you sing again?" she asked him.

"Once was really quite enough to inflict on everybody."

Al raised his glass. "Amen to that. I thought you'd been gargling gravel."

Danny raised his soda too. "Or broken glass."

"Very husky."

"I thought he'd _eaten_ a husky."

Al nodded in agreement with Danny. "And I think that old Mel the Velvet Fog certainly has nothing to worry about -aside from being dead, that is."

"Jack could be the Velvet Frog," added Danny. "Just don't give up your day job, Jack!" he said, laughing. "Please-please-please don't!"

Samantha had had enough. "Oh, shut up you two -he was wonderful." She kissed Jack on the cheek. "Good choice too."

"When's your song?" he asked.

"Not too far to go, I think. There's a couple of others before Jen and me."

Jack could be patient.

He hoped.

Xx--

When it was Jen's turn, she sultrily breezed through her song to Al's wolf whistles and Danny's joined–in 'ahs'.

Then it was Sam's turn. She squeezed Jack's thigh before she got up, meeting Jen halfway with a high five.

Danny was rubbing his hands together. "This will be _good_."

Jen shot him a quizzical look as she sat down. "Really? I didn't know she liked to sing."

He nodded enigmatically. "It's not about her singing..."

The microphone stand was optional and Al was glad to see she was going to use it. "Oh, thank you God -here it comes..."

Jack watched as Al and Danny leaned forward. He almost wanted to cover his eyes. But it was Sam's choice and if she wanted to sing it...

Sam was at the microphone, taking a big breath, not looking the slightest bit nervous.

_How _does_ she do that? _Jack marveled.

The song began its odd way and Sam had shut her eyes: "Me-e a-and..."

Danny and Al wet their lips in anticipation as their eager smiles grew.

Jack decided to cover his eyes.

"Agent, Agent Malo-one... we got a thi-ing going o-onnnn..."

Looking over his fingers, Jack stared as Jen laughed out loud and clapped.

There was stunned silence from Danny and Al as Sam continued: "We both know that it's wrong, but it's much too strong, to let it go now..."

_Well that was once true_, thought Jack. _Happily no more._

The other guys were not impressed.

"Aw -_no_!" said Danny.

"Damnit, damnit, damnit!" said Al, hitting the table several times.

Jack was relieved and amused at the same time as he whooped in delight.

Al looked as if someone had taken away a favorite toy. "What a rotten time to change the lyrics!"

"Well, she's still wrapping herself around the mike stand," said Danny, although his heart wasn't in it.

"Yeah, but sort of knowing what that's a metaphor of _now_…" Al pointed out, shooting a narrowed glance at Jack -sitting blissfully listening to Sam singing about him- "well, it's just ruined it for me."

Pulling out his wallet, Jack then threw a scrunched up $20 at Danny. "Best money I ever lost."

Danny threw it back. "It's tainted with disappointment. I don't want it."

"I think she's doing a nice job," said Jen, elbowing Al. "So there." She hadn't quite known what they'd been talking about.

As Sam eventually finished her song to a few cheers and claps, Jack met her half way across the floor. "That was wonderful, but Al and Danny may never forgive you."

"Danny saw the original anyway –I _might_ have done it if you hadn't turned up. That was my warm-up for your special version."

He kissed her. "And I loved it, especially what you do with that mike stand."

She wrapped his arms around him. "I think I can arrange a private showing for you."

He returned the gesture. "Then I think it's time to get going. I still have to show Danny around tomorrow and get out of your hair."

"Perhaps you should leave the tour for whichever lucky lady he brings to the wedding."

He squeezed her tighter. "And then we can sleep in –ni-ice..."

Sam was sure that would be the last thing on their minds. "And you can help me pack for the honeymoon."

Jack cocked his head. "Are we actually dancing to the music? My feet are definitely moving." It wasn't his smoothest diversion, but it would do.

"I think it's called a drunken sway."

"Good, because you know I'm useless at dancing."

"Then this is a 'swaying to music' practice for the wedding."

"Then that's all right then."

They turned in a slow circle, Sam's cheek resting near Jack's shoulder. She could hear Al, wondering aloud if Sam would sing the _Mrs. Jones _version at the wedding. She looked over to him, caught his eye and shook her head, smiling. He laughed at that, throwing his hands up in defeat.

Then looking up at Jack, she decided it was worth another shot... "Really -an empty suitcase and passport? That's all?" she asked, in a plaintive, small voice.

Jack smiled, her restraint -on the whole- had been quite admirable. "That's all. At least give me this one time to be super-secretive."

Sighing in a resigned way, she gave up. "Oh, all right."

Jack squeezed her again in compensation. "You know, I think I'm getting the hang of this swaying thing. I might be perfect for the wedding."

Sam's head came up at that, and she gave him a slow, lingering kiss. "Really sweetheart," she said, looking into his beautiful, hazel eyes. "I don't think you could be any more perfect, even if you tried."

And for the second time that night, Jack blushed.

Xx--

The End.

_Me and Mrs Jones_, song written by Kenny Gamble and Leon Huff. I was listening to the Billy Paul version on the radio when I thought about the song lyrics, but if you prefer Michael Buble's version, then that's okay too.


End file.
